


a breeze in the morning

by smallredboy



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autistic Alexander Hamilton, Beaches, Established Relationship, Fluff, Homesickness, M/M, Stimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 16:40:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15344040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: Alex and George are at the beach, and Alex misses his home.





	a breeze in the morning

**Author's Note:**

> fills my homesickness square in gen prompt bingo. the red clothing in the first paragraph is a nod to #redinstead. autism speaks is a hate group and cjack can bite me for supporting it. 
> 
> enjoy!

They go to the beach in April.

Alex puts red swimming trunks on and a tank top of the same color on, George only wearing black swimming trunks. He doesn't have red ones; maybe he'll buy some before April is over.

George puts a towel down and puts their belongings on it. The beach is mostly empty, and Alex is excited.

"Can I be ecstatic at being at the beach yet?" he asks, looking at the sea with a wide grin. It almost feels like being in the Caribbean again.

George laughs and tangles his hand on Alex's hair. He pets his head. "Of course, sweetheart."

Alex proceeds to get away from the towel and let his bare feet dip into the sand. It covers most part of his feet, and it's a delightful feeling. He walks towards the shore, until he's by the seaside, and he leans down to stick his fingers into the wet sand.

His mind buzzes. He used to do this back in Nevis— going to the seaside and reveling on just how good it feels to have sand on his feet, in between his fingers. And it's been ages and now he's twenty-nine and he wishes he could see what his island's come to.

He's so busy moving his fingers, playing with the wet sand that he doesn't hear footsteps. George grins at him, warm and nice and kind before tapping his shoulder.

Alex jumps and nearly trips.

"Sorry, Alex," George says, retrieving his hand and clasping it with the other. Alex straightens up before heading to the sea, sinking his hands into the water and cleaning them off the sand.

Alex turns around with a smile from ear to ear. "It's okay," he says, tilting his head and leaning closer to George. He gets on his tiptoes to kiss George's jaw.

"I see you're liking the beach."

Alex laughs softly and kicks his feet a little, wiggling it a little and feeling the sand. "Liking? I'm ecstatic, George."

George chuckles right back, kissing the top of his head. "I know, Alex. I know."

"It reminds me of home," Alex starts as he slides to the dry sand, sitting cross-legged.

"Home," George echoes. Alex knows he calls a lot of things home; as long as it's somewhere or someone safe, it's home to him. George is home, New York is home, his friends are home. But most importantly, Nevis is.

"My actual home," he clarifies. "Nevis. My island."

George hums in interest. "I see."

Alex digs his fingers into the dry sand before pulling them out. He gets even giddier as he sees it slip between his fingers.

He wishes he was back there, too — a New York beach is nothing compared to his island. His island had ( _has_ , present tense— maybe, he doesn't know) clearer than glass water and bordering on white sand. This isn't anything like it.

"Nevis is better, though. I'd love to go back."

George hesitates before sitting next to Alex, not crossing his legs. "I can arrange that," he says, tilting his head.

Alex's eyes widen and he looks at George incredulously. "You wouldn't."

"Of course I would," George says, leaning in to cup Alex's cheek. He brushes his thumb across his cheekbone. "I wouldn't mind taking a week off to see your home."

"I'll help pay, though." Alex hesitates before saying, "I can't let you just take care of all this yourself. I wanna earn being back there." George is always all too eager to spend all his savings on Alex, and it's always been a bad idea in Alex's eyes. He loves how much his boyfriend cares for him, sure, but there's no need for the level George goes to. Or at least wants to go to.

George rolls his eyes, but his smile is so loving it doesn't matter. He leans over to kiss him, thumb pressing against Alex's cheekbone. "Okay, sweetheart. You'll help with it."

Alex bites his lip and looks down at the sand. "Thanks." He isn't sure what else to say, so he keeps his fingers buried in the sand. He misses Nevis so much it makes him ache; he's felt homesick like this before, but being in a place so similar yet so different exacerbates it.

The silence drags on, and he keeps stimming absentmindedly. It's like that for a while— fiddling and playing with sand and kissing George from time to time.

"Can I talk about my island?" Alex asks after maybe ten minutes.

George lights up. Alex knows he doesn't mind silence (might even prefer it), but he encourages his every desire to dump information into him.

"Of course, Alex."

Alex goes into a tangent about his island like that, the breeze gently swaying them both. He loves the beach and the seaside and the sick feeling of missing something is still there. He knows it'll be gone as soon as he sets foot in Nevis again. 


End file.
